Crazy Chemical Creation
by fakeskyline
Summary: This is the story of a girl named Harley and how she was kidnapped by The Joker and later fell in love with him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **In this story I suppose Harley is pretty much OOC, but I think the personality still works rather well with her. I wrote this story a couple of years ago for myself, but I do believe that everything should be shared, since you never know _what_ loonies will like it. :-)

And I have to mention that I dedicate this story to my high school friends, my ex-best friend, and the boy who came along, set my world on fire, and made me his Harley Quinn.

* * *

_ "Get off the floor you piece of shit!"_

_ "Dad!"_

_ Smack._

_ "Dad!"_

_ Kick._

_ "Please dad!"_

_ "Stop begging you weak piece of shit. You'll never be even half the man that I am! You're just going to let people walk all over you, you worthless bastard."_

_ Hit. It's then that the door opens. _

_ "What's going on here?"_

_ "Teaching the boy a lesson."_

_ Crack._

_ "Stop it!"_

_ Punch._

_ "Stop it!"_

_ Whack._

_ "Stop it! He's bleeding! Please just stop it! Stop it!"_

_ "Shut up you bitch!"_

_ Slap._

_

* * *

_

** "'ey! 'ey boss! We're 'ere! Wake up!"**

** "Ugh," he said, wiping his eyes and licking the corner of his mouth. "California?"**

** "California."**

** "Excellent."**

**

* * *

**

"Shit Harley, what are we going to do?"

"I just don't know."

Walking by the shops of the boardwalk Ashes and Harley, The Insane Duo, were out of luck. The 20-year-old college drop-outs had spent all week looking for an affordable apartment to share. All of the apartments were either too expensive (false advertising!) or really rundown (death traps!). They were both going to be kicked out of their houses for doing nothing for a year. It's not like they'd _planned_ this. They were supposed to graduate college, get their own place, get jobs, and then travel the world. Harley was still jobless (boring, monotonous slavery!) and they were both homeless as of tomorrow (some loving parents!). Harley's parents had counted on her doing so much better than her free-loading brothers. Her "falling short of her potential" was just unacceptable. First she graduated high school a semester late and now her college-dropout ass couldn't even get a job or a place to live. Ashes's mother was just a psycho bitch.

"Now what?"

"No clue. Y'know, Tony or...or Kayla might be around here. Maybe they could take us in for a month or help us find someone who will."

"Or we could just...swim to England and not have to worry about being poor."

"Damn British!"

* * *

**"Let's go to the ocean."**

** "Y'want some sun boss?"**

**"I wanna have some fun."

* * *

**

"Chelsea!"

"Oh hey Harley!"

"Tony around?"

"Oh yeah. Tony, Kayla, Fat Tony, Maggie...everyone...we're all here!"

Harley grabbed Ashes by the crook of her arm and they followed Chelsea through the sea of people and shops. Right at the point of where the shops ended and the sand began were her friends sitting on beach towels under umbrellas.

"SHERIFF!" yelled Tony.

Harley's sheriff badge glinted in the sun. It's amazing what some painted on plastic can make. You can get an eight-pack for a dollar at the dollar store. Why wear it to the beach? She's worn one everywhere (except job interviews!) since high school. She just wanted to be famous, known. When something doesn't come to you, do all you can to create it yourself. Create your own Fate, redefine everything you know.

"Hey Ashy," he said, obviously less enthusiastic. He redirected his attention to Harley. "How's apartment hunting? Been invited to the Playboy Mansion yet?"

"Oh yeah Tony, I just came here to wait for the bunnies." She stared at her wrist like she was wearing a watch.

"Hey look! There they are!" squealed Ashes, pointing. Harley's eyes followed the invisible line and came upon a middle-age woman wrapped in a Bugs Bunny towel. The whole group roared with laughter as the lady cast them a death glare.

"But seriously," Tony laughed. "How's it going?"

Suddenly the whole group went silent and stared intently at Harley. She hated being on the spot almost as much as she hated asking for help.

She laughed, "Why the fuck are you all staring like that?!"

They all started laughing and Tony squeezed out an "I don't know." Harley growled before pouncing on Tony. They started rolling around, tickling each other, before rolling right into a nearby man taking a nap. They laughed even harder as they scurried back to the group. Their throats were raw, but they kept on laughing – the whole group, just laughing. It's all they ever did when Harley was around.

* * *

** "What is it Boss?"**

** "That laughter...I like it!"**

** The few men with binoculars worked on finding the hysterical faces. The rest just squinted, hoping that they'd evolve into a binocular-eyed new species.**

** "So, uh, what're we gonna do?"

* * *

**

"Erg, so yeah, we need a place to stay for a while," said Harley, finishing the woeful tale of apartment hunting.

"But you're sheriff, you can do anything!"

"Suck my ass, Tony."

"Make felching!"

Harley sighed. Ninety percent of the things Tony said were her recycled jokes beaten to death.

"Make dying!" Harley shot back.

"Make a well and I will!"

Harley smacked herself on the head before lunging into Fat Tony's chest. "Hide me from the stupid!" Fat Tony just put his arms around Harley and kissed the top of her head. She flipped over and leaned her back. He kissed her temple. Tony just turned away.

"Well, my brother's looking for a roommate," said Christina.

"Really? Ashes, we should check that shit out."

"Yah!" Ashes replied in a strange, almost cut-off sounding comical voice.

Suddenly Harley got up, went over to Ashes, and sat down on her. Fat Tony gave an exaggerated, puppy-dog eyed frown.

"Fine, I see how it is," he pouted. "I'll just have to..." He trailed off, before lunging at Tony. He proceeded to hump his head. Tony's screams were drowned out by the group laughter as Harley yelled, "Woot woo! Tony on Tony action!" Nearby people stared, as they tend to do.

"And now I'm gonna ride my Harley!" Fat Tony went on.

"No!" Harley shrieked. Like a bullet she was up and running past the shops. Both Tony's followed.

"Seriously, what the hell?" asked Maggie.

"What?" replied Chelsea.

"What gets into everyone when she's around?"

"She's a load of fun."

"She's weird."

"She likes to get INSIDE of you. Especially at night," said Ashes, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

* * *

**"Is everything set?"**

** "Yeah boss. All you need to do is set it off."**

** "Mmm, this is gonna be fun," he said, licking the side of his mouth. "Let's light this fucker like a roman candle!"**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry for the long time to update. Seven months does seem a little long. But this Harley Quinn has been fighting an emotional battle with her Joker and she has been losing. And so while she waits in the ashes for him to appear once again to toy with her some more, she shall write.

* * *

"Noooo!" screamed Harley.

"Yeeees!" replied Tony as he and Fat Tony pulled Harley off of her feet.

"One."

"No!"

"Two."

"No!"

"THREE!"

Harley shrieked as the Tony's threw her into the air. When she landed in their arms she started smacking them.

"Again?"

"NO!"

"One!"

"Fucking die!"

"Two!"

"Fuck-"

She was cut off by several nearby explosions. The trio flew to the ground along with an assortment of items that were now nothing more than trash and rubble. The air became thick with dust. Harley struggled to see, but the dust was too thick. She could hear gunfire now.

"Harley, take my hand!"

Coughing, Harley took the hand offered to her. They ran, crouched, in the general direction of the beach. The dust was starting to lighten up. She looked over to see Tony doing his best to lead them through.

"Hey!" they heard behind them They both turned. It was then that someone took a baseball bat to Tony's head. Harley's shrill scream was soon muffled. A ball was shoved into her mouth and strapped to her head. A burlap sack was then shoved over her head. She tried to scream, but the sound didn't travel far. The ball vibrated in her mouth and that was it. All she could see was shades of brown. She just about jumped out of her skin when she felt two rough hands grab her around the waist and throw her over someone's shoulder. She kicked and hit with all of her might, until she felt a leather strap going around her wrists and then her ankles (helpless worm!). The man whom was carrying her was running very fast. Gunshots followed them and Harley struggled until she ran out of energy and breath. Her lungs were threatening to explode if she couldn't intake a vast amount of air through her mouth. She went limp and tried to figure out what was happening. Things seemed so much simpler when she didn't move. All she could see was brown. All she could hear was screams and gunshots. It didn't sound and feel as chaotic. It seemed more like a strange CD - "Sounds of a Village Invaded by Soldiers" (a one time TV off, only $19.95! Perfectly safe for home!)

Pretty soon the screams got quieter and the gunfire was less frequent. Now Harley could hear the sound of shoes flapping on pavement. Heavy breathing. Then, she heard her kidnapper (or rather, freaknapper?) fiddle with something. She felt herself being thrown and she roughly met a bumpy, cold cold metal floor. She winced at the initial pain, though it wasn't too bad. She realized that she was in the back of a truck. She felt a few more people get on before the engine started. Someone floored it, causing Harley to roll toward the back.

"Grab 'er!" yelled a gruff voice.

Several rough hands pulled her deeper into the truck. A few men kept her in place with their feet. It was like she was a footrest. She felt like an object. When they'd hit a bump or dip she'd fly into the air only to be kicked back down. The force made her leak a few involuntary sounds, which were met with "shut up you stupid bitch!" and one man went as far as to make fun of her crying (insert evil henchman laughter here). It was obvious that none of them had been bound and forced to lay on the floor of a truck with several feet holding them down.

It wasn't long until they'd reached their destination (or if destiny had nothing to do with it, chancination?) Someone cut the engine and the men piled out. She sat there in silence, wondering if she was alone. The scent of cigarette smoke answered her question. So she waited. And waited. And...each second weighed a ton.

* * *

** "How is she?"**

** "She whimpered on the way here, but that's about it."**

** "Whimpered? Hmm..."**

** "You want me to go get her?"**

** "You know, that whimpering just will not do! One little fight and she'd be down and out. No. No, I want you and a couple of your _buddies_ to take her into the garage and...beat the shit out of her. Make her feel _real_ pain. She can't be hanging around here crying every time the wind blows. Just make sure she's nice and bruised up, but do not break any of her bones or hurt any of her vital organs. We need her functional."**

** "Want us to use knives?"**

** "Oh please no!" The air was dripping with his comical over-exaggeration. Get this guy a studio audience. "Just hurt her. Toughen her up. But no knives. Bruises heal. Cuts turn into scars. And we all know about _scars_."**

** He moved his lips around for emphasis. On both sides of his mouth were deep, poorly healed scars, resembling what had been done to the Black Dahlia. But this man was no flower. Some would say...he was a clown from hell. Most folks didn't find him very funny. Just frightening...and sad.

* * *

**

"Nice phone," said one of the henchmen. They'd taken her phone and her wallet, the only two things she'd had on her. Next they took the burlap sack and the gag ("Scream all you want! No one will hear you!") It wasn't difficult to get adjusted to the light – there was hardly any. The only source of light was a small lamp. It created odd shadows that dance sinisterly. They were in a nearly empty garage. Another henchman entered the room with a smile. There were now three in the room with her. She was still bound and she didn't say a word. It always seems like the more someone cries and whines, the more the shit gets beaten out of them.

A man with an unusual amount of facial/neck skin suddenly came face to face with her. He chuckled a little bit and Harley turned her head away. His breath was terrible. He grabbed her chin and made her face him. She held her breath the best she could. His hot breath gave her chills. Quickly, he brought his face to hers. Despite his hand holding her chin, she was able to turn away. She felt his lips on her cheek. She felt just how rough and unshaven he was. When he pulled away she stared him right in the eye.

And smacked her and "hmph" was all he uttered before pulling out a strip of black cloth. It was a blindfold. She went back to staring him down even as he tied it tightly around her head. To replace her stare, she smirked. No matter what, she kept that smirk on her face. Inside, she was freaking out. Things were really started to sink in and not being able to see made her jumpy. Her skin prickled. There was a lot of moving around before things went gravely silent. She became aware of how loud her breathing was. She tried to breathe more softly, but it felt more and more like her lungs were going to implode.

A brief shuffle of feet broke the silence before something rammed into her stomach. This forced her to lay on her side, a brief grown escaping her lips. There was more shuffling of feet before the pain happened again a million times over. Her lip split. Her right knee was kicked out of place. She was sure all of her insides were breaking open. The smirk was now forgotten and she so badly hurt. She never wanted to move again. So she just laid there and took it. After what felt like an eternity, the beating stopped. There was panting and a shuffle of feet. The sound of a door opening. The sound of rummaging. Was that all they were going to do? To an outsider it didn't seem like much. But her body felt like it was on fire. She'd never felt worse pain. So many people could say that it could be worse, but have they ever taken a blind beating? Things could have been worse, but they could have been so much better.

* * *

** "Done already?"**

** "Just taking a break."**

** "Did she cry?"**

** "No. She groaned a little, but that's it. She didn't fight back or nothin'!"**

** "Has she said anything?"**

** "Nope, not a word. She's got some real balls."**

** "Or a death wish."**

** The henchman laughed, but the man with the scars frowned. Not that anyone would notice. No matter what, thanks to the scars he always looked like he was either smiling or smirking. Or maybe...it was just the make-up – black coon eyes, red smeared over his cheeks and mouth, skin painted white. He truly look like a clown, but something was off. Was it the scars? The red was always grinning the biggest smile, but the scars were just lines. Was his "smile" really permanent or could it easily be washed away?

* * *

**

Her eyes were wet. She wasn't really crying. She didn't have the energy to. Tears were just kind of _seeping_ out like they did when she yawned. It didn't even matter now that she was blindfolded – she never wanted to open her eyes again. The only thing she wanted was to be back with her friends, but she'd even settle for just lying there – slowly getting better. Any hope of that was soon shattered when she heard a shuffling of feet followed by laughter and some noises. Music started playing. If filled the whole room and it wasn't long until she realized it was Prince. _Prince_ of all the things in his shit hole. Prince – king of sex. Prince! What were they thinking?

Harley must have been concentrating on the music for too long, because the pain began without her hearing it begin. It was different this time. Maybe even better if her body wasn't already bruised and broken. But either way, it sent paining ripping through her already beaten body. There was a lot of laughter and she realized that she was being shot at. She could hear golf balls bouncing away from her body, but there was something else that stayed on her. She'd always heard her friends talk about it and she'd seen it on TV. Oh how romantic it was in that movie! But she'd never actually experienced it firsthand. _Paintball shooting._ She certainly didn't see anything fun or romantic about it now as her bruises were pelted – as some got in her mouth. She tried to focus on the music, but she wasn't even hearing words anymore. Or had Prince switched over into a different language? Nothing helped. More pain just kept coming in little shots of paint or small orbs that were bounced off of her body. She felt so weak. She'd hardly noticed when they'd stopped. She could still feel points of pain, but it was all in her head. There was the shuffle of feet and the sound of the guns being put down. A door opened. She felt some cool air blow in before strange sounding foot steps came near her. Suddenly a new pain began as an excruciatingly hot liquid was poured on her. She gasped in pain. And just as cool air touched her like a bird catching a fish, she felt it again. Something between a gasp and a scream escaped her lips. Prince sounded like he was nearing orgasm. Strangely, she did too. Sometimes it's hard to tell pleasure and pain apart.


End file.
